PWP
by Jav-chan
Summary: It was in her darkest moment that he reached out a hand to her. When he kissed her she knew that, somehow, she would find the strength to move on. V/H
1. Stranded

**As the title states this is PWP. So....lots of lemons.**

**...and not much else.**

**Proceed at your own risk.**

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****PWP  
Stranded**

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_Van/Hitomi_

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His bare skin was almost hot against hers and for a moment Hitomi wondered if it was a Draconian thing. The long mass of wings covered their forms as he devoured her mouth. She moaned, acutely aware of that pulsing ache. His sword-calloused hands were rough against her skin, and Hitomi relished in the feel of it. She shivered, moaning into his mouth when his fingers brushed against her breasts and inner thighs. The steady drum of the rain as the storm raged outside of the cave they had found shelter in had faded into the background, and something about the sound made her feel languid and soft somehow. Maybe more than a little drunk. The lightning glowed harsh and yellow against Van's golden tanned skin, but these were details that she barely noticed in passing. It was much more important that she concentrate on him.

His hands almost felt curious, searching her naked flesh for something she couldn't see. His kisses were demanding and she trembled. The air in the cave was damp, even the thin, half-sodden blanket beneath them would offer a portion of the protection against the cold, but neither of them felt the coolness. They didn't notice the way air chilled their flushed skin.

She cried out when he cupped her core, clinging to his shoulder as she repeated his name in a breathless moan. His hardness was pressing against her thigh insistently and she wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him to slide into her. The brush of his feathers against her bare skin was delicious, almost sinful.

Then he shifted against her, and suddenly he was inside her, stretching her full and tight. For a moment she forgot to breath, and the world fractured into hundreds of shards as he thrust into her hotly and slowly in a way that had her screaming and clinging. Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes and fell down her cheeks, but she couldn't care as to how it would make him worry. All she could concentrate on how slowly he was easing out of her and by the _gods—_

"Van!" She was near tears from frustration as he teased her to that delicious edge. "Please!" His thrusts were so slow, almost painful. His teeth grazed his skin and she bit his shoulder into retaliation.

Van growled and then he was thrusting into her deep and hard in a way that had Hitomi crying out as she arched against him. There could never be anyone else. She was ruined for any other man, but that didn't bother her in the slightest.

He captured her mouth when the overwhelming euphoria claimed them both, and she bit down hard on his bottom lip as her body trembled with the overwhelming sense of completeness that filled her.

Her eyelids seemed so unbearably heavy and she let them slide shut, hardly aware when the sensation of feathers disappeared. Her head rested against his head weakly, as he rolled over so that she could drap her arms and legs over his limbs, and Hitomi sighed when he dropped feather light kisses to her forehead. Smirking, Van wrapped his arms around her and shifted against her.

Only as she cried out did she realize that he hadn't pulled out of her. Her green eyes fluttered opened and she gazed up at him in disbelief, a breathy whisper escaping her mouth.

"_Again_?"

XXX

It really was of very little surprise when the awkward couple was found the next morning barely clothed and feverish.

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**Ok, I know that was short. I'm just starting to get the hang of this whole lemon thing so for the time being they will be drabble length. Forgive me.**

**As the title says this is a collection of PWP. It will be a mix of canon and AU. I will try also—providing she gives me her permission—to do lemons based on Suils Saifir's Black & Gold. A wonderful collection of stories for those who haven't read it yet. I highly recommend them.**


	2. Addiction

**PWP  
Addiction**

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_Hitomi/Van  
Inspired and set in the world of 'Inspiration' of the Black and Gold Collection. Written with the Suils stamp of approval. _

_http://www . christinagowns .?fuseac tion=catalog.c atalog&cat egoryID=546_

_I think this fails epically as far as being PWP. Pesky background information._

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The invitation hadn't been as big of a surprise as she pretended it was, nor were those heated looks he kept sending her way. Hitomi knew that she should have felt, at the very least, a little bit guilty that she was wearing a dress that she knew would tease him. A cream colored halter-top dress fashioned in the manner of Marilyn Monroe. She smiled flirtatiously at a silver haired man who approached her. Her heart skipped a beat when he wrapped an arm around her waist. She couldn't quite recall his name—not that it mattered—and it was only the fact that she knew _his_ hot gaze was on her that kept from trying to knee the prick when he asked her for a dance. Lol.

Her eyes flicked over to the mirrored walls that lined the expansive dance hall, her lips curling when she noticed the lithe form of her artist—_stalker_—making his purposeful way towards her. If she was a different type of woman, if she was the type of woman that regularly donned a push-up bra and corset so that her breasts would seem more prominent then she would have turned her gaze away from her prey and flirted with the handsome man next to her. Even though she could admit that he was one of the finer specimens that she had ever seen, something about him still made her uneasy.

Instead, she turned to him, her cheeks flaming when his gaze was suddenly drawn to her breasts. Her hand tightened into a fist and she had the sudden urge to punch him and wipe that perverted leer off of his face. Gritting her teeth she politely declined the invitation to dance. She had just managed to escape the man's grasp when another arm reached out and snaked around her waist, his hands burning like a brand as he splayed his fingers over her curves. She was pulled rather hardly against his chest, and it was only then that she was aware of just how muscular he was. She gasped and her cheeks flushed crimson. _Perhaps this hadn't been the best of ideas…_

"You," The hoarse and thick quality of his voice made her shudder as his other hand went to rest on the silky material that covered the barest parts of her shoulder, "Are quite a tease."

"I—"

He cut her off when he tilted her chin back to press a searing, demanding kiss to her lips. She gasped, painfully aware that her face most likely resembled a cherry, bright and red.

_This is probably one of the more foolish things that you could have done, Kanzaki. _It was one of her last coherent thoughts of the night as her artist dragged her forcefully out of the hall and up a set of marble steps.

XXX

She didn't feel quite as nervous as she had expected to, but she certainly felt more shy than she had a right to be since this was exactly what she had wanted. She bit her lip to fight the urge to flinch back when he locked the door and started to stalk—there was no other way to describe the way he approached, and a part of her did acknowledge that it was appropriate all things considered—towards her, his garnet eyes hot.

He was less than an arm's length away—if he reached out his fingers would brush her cheek—when she was able to collect her thoughts enough to recall why she had decided to dress in a way that was so unlike her. Reaching down the front of her dress, ignoring the wicked smirk that Van's lips pulled into, she withdrew her invitation from her bra, her cheeks pink.

Hitomi held it in front of her, waving it threateningly. She concentrated on the elegant script that decorated the heavy paper. It did a lot to help her retain the control that he had so easily ripped from her.

"What the hell is this Van? An invitation to your _muse?!_ Since when did I become your muse?" The rush of indignity that she had first felt upon receiving the invitation only built up at his smirk. "What the hell—what is the meaning of this Van!?" She tightened her grip on the paper when he moved to take it. She almost didn't notice his suddenly curious expression. She was too busy trying to ignore all of the temptation that he offered. His smirk, she decided, was much too amused.

"Hitomi," She had to bite her lip to hold back a whimper at the thickness of his voice. The way his eyes were suddenly riveted to her lips was not helping. He placed a hand on her hip, his fingers curving to caress the material that was covering her belly and she gasped at the heat of the contact. He leaned closer, much too close. "You don't expect me to believe you came all this way, dressed like _that_, to just yell at me about some foolish invitation. I'll have you know that my sister was the one who sent it. Without my knowledge." He brought his mouth dangerously close, she could almost feel his lips curving into a smirk, and his breath ghosted along the shell of her ear. It was will power alone that kept her from moaning. "I can think of much more..._exquisite_ ways to torture you." His teeth closed around her ear lobe and she cried out when he tugged gently on the sensitive flesh. "Better ways to _torment_ you."

_Oh hells, I am so screwed._ Hitomi despaired when she realized just how literal that thought was.

He tugged her closer as his free hand curled around her neck in an overtly possessive manner that nearly had her eyes fluttering. Hitomi was just barely able to remember that she was furious with him when he kissed her. It was sweet and teasing, and soft scrape of his teeth against her lower lip had her gripping his sleeve. Heat pooled in her belly, and she watched him with half-lidded eyes, shivering as she recalled the dark promises of his earlier words. The hand on her hip caressed her curves and if she had been more in control of the situation she would have twisted his arm behind his back.

_Just jump me already_. She thought with a moan.

Her eyes fell on the invitation and the memory of the painting, and she was just contemplating the thought of trying to implement her plan—_if only she could just remember what it was_—to try and recall the righteous anger when the planes of his chest were pressing firmly against her breasts. The invitation was out of her hand before she could even breathe, and then she was falling, falling onto the softness of the bed with his hands pulling roughly at the ties and yanking down the front of her dress, his lips kissing hers with a desperate frenzy that she had never encountered before.

The rock against her core as he pushed the skirt of her dress had her gasping, and all thoughts of shyness scattered as she found herself kissing him just as eagerly, her fingers reaching up to tangle in his unruly hair.

"Seriously," She bit her lip to suppress a gasp as he nipped at her collar bone. "I don't care if it was for the sake of art. You...are...a...stalker."

Van's smirk was completely self satisfied as he pulled away to take in her flushed skin and the undone ties of her corset that was molded to her breasts. His smirk grew more satisfied when he rocked against her again, and she nearly moaned his name, her slim fingers grasping at his shoulders.

"That may be." He whispered darkly against her skin. He tugged harder at the ties until he could finally slip his hand under the brocade and grasp her breast. He rocked against her as she gasped, "Oh hell," and nipped at her ear lobe before continuing. "But I think, Hitomi, you rather like me like this." His breath danced over her skin as he nipped at her lower lip. He growled when she arched into his touch. "Say what you will, but all evidence points to the contrary."

"You asshole." Hitomi moaned when he suddenly pulled away. "Get back here and take off my clothes."

She wasn't quite sure where the sudden ripping sound came from and she hardly even had time to notice the jagged edges of the pale silk as it fluttered to the floor because Van was quite suddenly bracing his arms on either side of her head. Her insides fluttered at the anticipation and promises in his wicked smirk as he lowered his body, inch by tantalizing inch. His hardened length pressed heatedly against her thigh, and she nearly moaned when he did nothing but lay there, his body pressing fully against hers.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to bite him or kiss him when it became apparent that he was content to stay where he was.

"Hitomi," His voice came out as a little more then a growl and her fingers reached down, intent on undoing the buttons of his shirt. She could only blink stupidly when instead of harshly ironed linen she instead came in contact with the warmth of his skin. Van wrapped his arms around her and groaned, burying his nose into the juncture of her throat in a manner that had her squeaking. "You are a—" He let out a husky groan when she shifted beneath him. "Stop that." He growled. Nipping at the soft skin along the line of her neck, his hands started to wander along her curves. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

If her thoughts hadn't been solely concentrated on the press of his skin against hers, and the delicious friction that he was withholding from her—_the bastard_—she would have snorted at that. Artists who drew pictures of unsuspecting, sleeping girls were _not _gentlemen. As it was, she would rather prefer that he not attempt to play the gentleman. _Just fuck me already_. She thought desperately. Her cheeks reddened when she realized how completely desperate she would have sounded if she had said that out loud.

"Girls like you." His teeth grazed a particular bundle of nerves that had her arching into him. "Should not be allowed to wear white."

"It wasn't white," She countered weakly, crying out when his thumbs brushed over the tip of her breasts. Gods, his breath was so _harsh_ against her skin. Why was he holding back? "It was cream."

"And that is such a big difference." He let his blunt nails graze over her arms and the contours of her hips.

"Oh, hell."

It was at that point, Hitomi realized that Van seemed to grow tired of his sad attempt at restraint, his attempt to play the gentleman. He caught her lips in another kiss and this one was demanding, almost punishing. He bruised her lips as he pressed against her and she was completely unprepared for when he entered her.

Hitomi arched impossibly as he slid in, returning his kiss with one of her own that was desperate and bruising. She couldn't think, couldn't concentrate on anything but the delicious feel of him inside of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, encouraging him as his hands curled around the curves of her breasts.

She wasn't sure where he ended and she began. She wasn't sure if it even mattered. It was an eternity before he stopped those teasing thrusts and brought her to the elusive edge that she desperately craved. It wasn't long enough. She cried out, stars dancing behind her eyelids, and arched into him when he spilled into her.

His limbs suddenly went heavy, and he was practically crushing her to the bed. A type of sweet exhaustion had settled onto his tanned features she noticed, when she was able to form a coherent thought. Hitomi knew that the next morning she would quite possibly still hate him for that dratted painting. She probably always would. If he hadn't put it on display then she might have forgiven him, even if he had asked for her permission, but at the moment nothing really mattered. Such trivial things seemed so unimportant.

Her body still thrummed with pleasure and she didn't care how tired he was. She wanted _more_.

She reached up, her touch feather-light as she traced the strong line of his jaw.

"I want more," She moaned and rolled her hips. The arms that held her suddenly tightened. His entire form was tense and his breath was hot against his skin. She pressed another desperate kiss to his mouth, her body still aching with need as she arched into him encouragingly. "Please Van," His hands were playing over her body once more and she gasped with each delicious touch. "Take me."

His self control, she noticed, was a very fragile thing indeed.

XXX

Hitomi awoke the next morning with the sun shining in her eyes and a voice that could only be described as annoying. She curled into the warmth at her side burying her face into Van's chest to hide from the sunlight.

"Van—" The annoying voice, definitely male, cut into the light doze that she drifted off into. "You can't just—"

"Shut up Folken." Van's voice, soothing when compared to the voice that she now recognized as his brother's. "No one cares."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about Van, and you can't just escape to my room just because—"

Hitomi had decided that it was enough of that. It was too early to listen to annoying, grating voices and she could think of much better ways that she would much rather wake up. She just needed to remind Van of his priorities.

"Love," she whispered breathlessly into his ear, taking care to brush against his slowly hardening length, "Can you please be quiet? I'm not awake yet."

A heavy silence stretched, and for a moment thought that she might be able to achieve just a bit more sleep when there was an explosion of voices that had her ears ringing.

"DEAR LORD WHAT HAVE YOU DONE IN MY BED!?"


	3. The Muse

**PWP**

**The Muse**

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_Van/Hitomi_

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Sequel to Addiction_

_Written with the Suils stamp of approval…I hope. _

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_Van breathed in sharply when Hitomi's nails grazed against his naked length, even as his brother's screech left him with ringing ears. He looked down to see two innocent emerald eyes blinking back at him. The blanket was pulled haphazardly over her form so that all he could see was the mess of her caramel-brown hair, and the way her eyes glittered with something that could only be considered evil. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back the groan when Hitomi dragged her fingers lightly, teasingly, over his length. She moved closer to him, entwining her legs with his. She wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling closer to him and he had only the barest of moments to see her wicked smirk before she moved in to nip at the skin along the line of his throat.

He shuddered at the sensation of her soft lips against his neck. When she brushed her fingers against him a third time, he wasn't quite able to stop his growl as he grabbed her. He ignored his brother completely, already dismissing Folken as something unimportant. He was more concerned about teaching a lesson to the little minx that was pressed against his side.

Hitomi let out a squealed protest when he gripped her arms and swung her over so that she was now straddling him. She scrambled to get off of him, her green eyes darting over to where Folken stood, but the firm grip he had on her hips kept her in place. She blushed a rather fetching shade of scarlet as she struggled with the blanket in a desperate attempt to keep herself covered. Van hardly took note of how his brother let out a sound that sounded disturbingly like a strangled shriek. The door slammed against the frame violently as the elder Fanel fled the room. Little notice was taken of his absence as Van leaned back and rocked against her core. He smirked when Hitomi let a strangled moan and bent forward, placing her hands on his chest as she gasped at the sensation.

Van rolled his hips again, his eyes locked on her face as he watched her eyes squeeze shut at the sensations he was invoking in her. Her breath was harsh as he watched her struggle for some semblance of control. The carefully done curls of her hair slipped forward to cover her face when she bent enough so that her forehead was pressed against his chest. He pushed away the fine locks of her hair, fascinated. Even he, as an artist, had never seen anything so beautiful. He had a sudden desire to paint her like this, flushed and completely vulnerable. It was a shame that he knew she would never let him even if he could do it. He wondered how different their relationship would be if he had approached her as a normal man would've.

Van then decided that he really didn't care. He trailed his fingers over the velvet softness of her cheek, his gaze transfixed at the way her mouth was opened slightly. He traced small circles along her cheek as he watched her lower lip, utterly fascinated by how wet and inviting it looked.

He decided that it was pointless to imagine how different the relationship could have been. None of that really mattered. All that mattered was that -- despite the fact that she still claimed he was a stalker -- she had forgiven him and was now pressed so intimately against him. Thinking was not something that came naturally to Van, and he certainly didn't stop to think as he cupped her cheek and leaned up to kiss her. Hitomi returned his kiss with a fervor that while surprising, was not completely unexpected. He nipped at her lower lip hungrily as his hands slid down her cheek and under her jaw until his fingers curled possessively around her neck in a manner that just felt right.

Her hands were wandering, fingers gliding over his skin. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, nearly crushing her to his chest. She moaned against his mouth, her tongue tracing his lips coaxingly, almost hesitantly seeking entrance. He let her take what she wanted, yielding to her this one time. He was content to just concentrate on the feel of her. The softness of her curves, the warmth of her body, and the way her breasts were crushed to his chest in the most delicious sort of manner.

He was painfully aware of the hotness of her core as it brushed teasingly against him. It was an exquisite sort of torture, the way she kept moaning and rubbing against him and he wasn't quite sure where the control came from when he refused to enter her. His skin was thrumming everywhere they touched, but he kept his hands firmly planted on her hip and neck. He hadn't planned on this, but he got a sort of illicit pleasure as he forced himself to do nothing but react.

It was when she moaned against his mouth, whispering something that he couldn't quite understand recklessly against his lips, that it was nearly Van's undoing.

Her hands were flat against his chest, and when she pushed back slightly he took pleasure in noting how Hitomi's eyes were glazed with something that could only be called desire. His chest swelled with a primitive sort of pride at knowing that he was the only one who had ever seen her like this. She lowered her mouth and nipped along the line of his neck. He heard her words with startling clarity when they whispered against his skin once more.

"Van, please."

Such a soft, simply spoken plea, but it had him rolling his hips upward to rub hard against her. Then her hands were sliding up, her nails scraping against his skin, to grip his shoulders as her hips rolled down so that he could enter her.

As she clung to him, moaning his name and writhing against him, Van knew that he would never get tired of the way her breath hitched when he thrust into her again or the way her teeth scraped against his shoulder as she tried to contain her scream and she clenched around him.

But most of all, Van knew that, even as he found his own shuddering release with a sharp groan, he would never get enough of the way she softly whispered his name as she collapsed against him.

She said it as if he was something precious, something that she'd never want to let go of. The emotion in that one word had him wrapping his arms around her tightly as he withdrew from her and pulled the blankets back over their naked forms.

XXX

It was far easier to convince Hitomi to agree to let him do the portrait than he had expected. Almost too easy. She had simply given him one of those melting smiles when they returned to his studio and kissed him. He shivered at the husky way she whispered, "Where do you want me?" and his hand was fisting in her hair when she nipped at his lip.

"Hitomi," His voice was harsh as he tried to regain _some _control and remember why they were even in this room in the first place, "You are never allowed to wear white ever again."

He knew that the innocent look she gave him was deliberate, and he shuddered at the way her fingers slipped underneath his shirt and traced his skin. She leaned forward and her was warm against as mouth—"I told you, it's cream."—before kissing him again.

It was only the fact that he knew this was probably the only chance he had to do a rough sketch, at least, of how he had always wanted to draw her that kept him from pulling her flush against him so that he could feel the way they seemed to fit so well together. If it wasn't for the fact that she only ever acted like this whenever she was _absolutely certain_ they were alone, then Van would have been sorely tempted to call her a minx.

"A shade of white then." He growled, pulling on her hair so that she was forced to arch the pale skin of her neck to him. The dark haired artist smirked at the way she gasped, his name leaving her lips in a needy whisper as her hands seemed to fall limply against his chest. "Not yet love." He took a step back and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from moving forward when she cried out from the loss. "You promised."

He turned away from her to find his charcoal, pencils, and oils. He knew her lips were turned down into a pout and he also knew that it would cause the fraying edges of his control to snap. She called him a stalker. He often wondered what she would say if she knew that he had wondered what it would be like to draw like this since he had first set eyes on her. The fresh, heavy paper that he usually reserved for paintings that were submitted to galleries was clipped to his easel, and he retrieved everything that he would need from the box by his desk.

Even if she had made him swear, with a notary public as witness, that he would be risking severe injury if he ever dared to even _think_ of making this painting available to the public he never would have considered it regardless. It was one thing to submit a painting of a woman that he hardly knew. It was quite a different thing to submit a nude painting of his lover clad in nothing but a family heirloom and golden gauze. He had to bite back an instinctive snarl at the thought of anyone male seeing her like that.

"Where do you want me?"

He swallowed thickly at the husky tone of her voice, his back still turned to her. Of course, she would make this difficult. A frown slid across his face and he felt more than a little bit insulted. Did she really think he had so little self-control? His brow pulled down into another frown as he turned around. What he saw made his throat go very, very dry and he worried that his own self-control wouldn't be enough.

His great-great-great grandmother's bridal jewelry looked stunning on her. He had always thought that green was Hitomi's color. He swallowed thickly at the way the heavy stones seem to accentuate her breasts. The emeralds were dark and the light color of the gold went well with her pale complexion. She had pinned her hair up messily and the matching earrings would have brushed the skin of her shoulder if they were much longer. The golden gauze was draped carelessly over her bare shoulder and only covered half of one breast. Van knew that it was going to be very difficult to paint her with little distraction. Already, he could tell that he would need to have her model before him like this several times before he could complete the rough sketch.

It would be worth it, he knew, if he could just get her to agree to it.

Already the sight of her like that was bringing to mind things that he had never thought he would be ready for, at least not so soon. He found himself wondering just how, exactly, Hitomi would look wearing the traditional bridal gown of his family. Suddenly, he very much wanted to know.

He gestured uselessly at the gray velvet chaise that he had intended to draw her on. The smirk on her face, which could only be described as evil, was just slightly marred by the blush that stained her cheeks. Something about her expression was incredibly vulnerable and it had Van wanting to go over to her and smooth away her uncertainties. His hand tightened around his paintbrush as he forced himself to sit carefully in front of the easel. He took deep, calming breaths and reminded himself that this wasn't the first time that he had painted someone nude. This wasn't that different from then.

Except it was.

As he watched Hitomi drape her limbs over the chaise, pausing only to adjust the golden material so that it covered one breast and pooled at her belly button, he felt a keen sense of despair when he realized that this was going to be different from any other painting that he had ever done or ever would do. It was almost painful when he started to spread the charcoal lines over the heavy paper. He had lavished all of those curves, all of that soft skin, with the same intensity that he gave his art. There was something so profoundly intimate about immortalizing those curves and softness onto paper that he wasn't quite sure what to do.

As he etched the curve of her breasts, only starting to draw the design of the necklace, she rested her cheek against the chaise's velvety surface, her eyes half closed. He was so struck by the image that she presented to him and how much it seemed to mirror the only other painting that he had ever done of her.

They passed the hour in silence, the only sounds coming from his charcoal and the paper , with his occasional order for her to adjust her position. His hands were shaking by the time he had finished the outline of her form, but the lines on the paper were smooth and clean. She was watching him with half-lidded eyes and there was something teasing about the curve of her mouth. A lump formed in his throat when her fingers started to trail over her hips before moving up to trace small circles on the golden material over her stomach.

He set his charcoal down carefully and then he went to her.

He had been expecting something, what, he wasn't quite sure. She didn't protest when he straddled her, his hands on either side of her head as he bent down to kiss her. She moaned against his mouth when he accidentally ground against her as he cupped her cheek and traced her jaw, smudging her pale skin with charcoal. Something primal and feral vibrated in his chest when he pulled back and saw her skin marred with his preferred medium for art.

"You need to wear this," he growled as he nipped at her skin, "more often. Just this." Her breath hitched, and Van didn't know if it was from his words or the way he was slowly starting to move against her. Her hands were fumbling with his belt, her breath hot as it ghosted over his skin, even as her back arched when he cupped that gauze covered breast. He wasn't quite sure when he had lost his shirt and he really didn't care. All that mattered to him was exploring the parts of her body that he had so painstakingly drawn. It was inevitable when they finally rolled off the chaise. He wrapped his arms around her when the legs of the chaise scraped against the hardwood floors and they landed on the soft, white throw rug that he had placed before the chaise. Hitomi pulled back and blinked, confused. Van didn't give her time to wonder over this sudden change in their positions. He shifted her so that she was straddling him, and he watched, fascinated with the way her pupils dilated when she accidentally ground against him. He gripped her hips to keep her still and just relished in the sight of her, charcoal stained breasts heaving with the heavy gold of the necklace falling just over the curves. The tenacious hold that he had on his self-control frayed even further and he was quite certain that it was only held back by a delicate thread. He took in a deep breath and was surrounded by her scent and the faint perfume that still clung to her.

Her hands were shaking as they splayed over the skin that had been bared by the tumble. Her breathing was nearly as harsh and as heavy as his and Hitomi had difficulties as she started to undo the buttons of his shirt.

"Too many clothes." Her voice was curt and clipped, as if she had found it difficult to speak. "Off. Now."

Van was very proud when he was able to retain just enough control to smirk. "Impatient are we?"

That final delicate thread of control snapped when she arched her neck, leaned forward over his chest, and took the lobe of his ear in between her teeth and pulled. "Stalker."

He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, crushing her form to his and reversed their positions. Hitomi cried out, but it was one of frustration as she just yanked at the remaining buttons that refused to be undone. Van didn't care enough to mourn the loss of that shirt. It was one of his favorites, because it was the first gift that she had ever given to him. Instead he fisted a hand in her hair, only half aware that her fingers had moved down between their bodies to work on his pants, and arched her neck back. Her cry, needy and desperate, was like a sweet melody and he nipped at the juncture of her throat, his grip on her tightening when her fingers faltered in their task.

"My muse." He growled darkly against her skin. "Mine."

"Get your damn clothes off!" She snarled as she unzipped his pants and started to pull them down over his hips, her nails sliding over the waistband of his boxers to remove those as well.

The fist in her hair pulled back, exposing her charcoal smudged neck as he nipped and kissed her mouth. It was rough and domineering, possessive. He had no intention of letting her take what she wanted this time. She whimpered low in her throat, her nails scraping against his skin as she clung to him, and he rocked his hips teasingly against her core, not quite entering.

"You," her breath was wonderfully harsh and hot against his mouth, "are a perfect bastard."

"And you, are a perfect tease." He closed his eyes and groaned as he slid into her hard and fast.

This time she couldn't respond to the familiar argument as she cried out, arching her back and locking her legs around his waist. "Oh gods, Van!"

He grunted and just concentrated on the feel of her, in her hot tightness. He was hardly aware of the way his hands trailed down over her skin in a teasing way that had her trembling against him. The only thing he noticed was the way she arched into his hand, her tongue trailing along his bare skin as his thumb brushed teasingly against the top of her aching breasts.

"I hate you, you know." She cried as she continued to cling to him. "Why do you have to be so damn good?" He lost himself when she clenched around him and her nails scored his back as she found her release.

He didn't quite want to withdraw from her and would have been quite content to lie like that on top of her if it hadn't been for the fact that his arms were shaking horribly. Van buried his face in the juncture of Hitomi's throat.

"We really should clean up and take a shower." He whispered hoarsely.

"So you think you can carry us both?" She pressed her forehead to his, and Van shuddered as he could feel himself hardening inside of her. How did she manage to do this to him?

He couldn't quite find the strength to respond as he kneaded her breasts and she arched into him again, gasping his name in a desperate plea.

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**Unfortunately I couldn't get ths completed for last week. Sorry about the wait.**


	4. Possession

**PWP  
Obsession, Possession**

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**_Hitomi/Dilandau__

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This is a what-if set in the world of KRL. A __peek__ at what Hitomi's life would have been like if she hadn't saved Van. Warning: Dark lemon.__**You have been warned.**_

**Warning: This fic is labeled dark for a reason. It is not happy, and borders on the side of masochism. If you don't like dark stuff, or you thought Suils Saifir's Man of Honor one shot from B & G was too dark then I highly advise against reading this.**

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**It is difficult for her to discern from reality and make believe any more. She despises the nights. Too often the disgraced princess can not tell if the blood stains on her hands are real or not. Red is the only color she sees. Her world has been awashed in shades of gray, in pitchest black. She no longer feels the burning of the tonic as another vision is forced upon her. She wonders if, perhaps, this is madness.

She goes to him at night clothed only in a mantle of gossamer silk.

The shadows hide her nakedness as she slips into the empty room. She waits on the balcony, her hair falling in unbound curls down her back.

She stares out over a city wrought of twisted metal and iron. She does not hear him enter but she knows he is there. His presence is like death on her senses, bitterly sweet. His grip, as his arm snakes around her waist is painful. The delicate fabric rips as he tears the mantle off her shoulder. Hitomi doesn't fight back and doesn't resist. She arches her neck to give him easier access when his hand wraps around her neck in a manner that could be considered a choke hold. He doesn't kiss her—it can never be called anything so gentle—but his mouth still presses desperately against her lips with a bruising intensity. Her hands go to the buckles of his armor, not caring that they are exposed the eyes of any of the soldiers that patrol Zaibach's capital. She nips at his lip, drawing blood and rolls her hips when his hands slide down her hips and press against her. She moans into his mouth when he thrusts a finger inside of her and claws at his shoulders. When she pulls away for air he shoves her towards the glass door of the balcony.

Her viridian eyes are hot as she glares at him, a soft snarl escaping, and her nails chip as she pulls apart the ties and buckles that hold the last of his armor in place. It falls to the balcony with a dull thud and she wastes no time in removing the buckle of his leather pants. There is no time to remove his tunic. Not tonight.

Their love making—if it can even be called that—is something hot and wild and desperate. Her grips her breasts too hard and they ache. She cherishes the pain and the ache as she slides his pants over his hips, crying out when his fingers dig deep into the scarred skin of her back. Blood weeps out of the skin that he has broken and she wraps her arms around his shoulders and bites down hard. His groan is low, with the edge of a growl as his hands leaves her back to steady her hips.

When he enters her she cries out, not certain why it hurts so much when they have done this so many times.

Hitomi loses herself in the sensations as he fills her completely and roughly thrusts into her. His only concern is to find his own release, and he does not tend to her needs.

This is fine with her. She does not come to him each night, she does not fuck him each night on this balcony, to find that blissful release. This is the only thing in what is her life that is real. This is the only pain that she caqn feel. His fine silver hair and burning crimson eyes are the only that she can _see _any more. Silver and crimson, the only colors that make sense to her any more.

The glass door beneath her breaks and she cries out and arches into him when tiny slivers slice at her skin. Within moments the pain fades and she meets his thrusts with a savage desperation, her teeth grazing his neck and her jagged nails dig into his shoulder. He captures her lips again and she tastes blood. One of his hands snakes up her back, digging into the torn flesh and his fingers tangle into her hair and he forces her neck back enough to expose the bruised line of her throat to him.

Her world explodes into white stars as he continues to cut her and make her bleed. The crimson liquid almost burns as it crawls down her skin and she moans at the sensations. Her skin will be red and purple tomorrow, jagged and bruised, and no one will care. Her body still thrums with need when he spills into her and she doesn't try to stop him when he withdraws. She sinks to the floor, gasping. She will stay like this for a while, and wrap herself in what blankets she can find. She never sleeps in his bed.

In the pale morning of the pre-dawn hours Dilandau will drag her from the floor, as he does every morning. His breath will be hot against her skin as he drags her to the shower. He will take her again, as he lets the scalding water clean her blood off and it is only then that she will find the release, that the craving will be finally sated.

She will wander the rest of the day in a daze. If she is lucky someone will be kind enough to help her dress, and all she will be able to do is count away the hours and hope that, if she can't tell the difference between the melding realities of her vision that he will send for her again.

She can only pray that he will make her bleed.

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**Ok…that was a bit dark…and more morbid then I had intended. Depending on what the feedback is I may or may not continue this. There are some interesting angles that I can explore if I do.**


	5. Home

**PWP  
Home**

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**_Van/Hitomi_

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Foreclosure by Sale. The words were a simple, block kanji that was stamped in black over the sign with the realtor's information. It was so simple, so easy to overlook, yet to Hitomi the sign might as well have been covered in bright, flashing neon lights. She bit her lip as she shouldered her modest pack and tears blurred her vision before she was finally able to force herself to walk away.

Hitomi was no stranger to death. She had seen people die, seeing their chests pierced with weapons more times than she cared to count. During her freshman year of high school she had been forced to deal with death, blood, deception, and conspiracy. She had nearly been killed, nearly been raped, more than once.

She had gone through so much more than a woman twice her age had. So why was it that with this death, this change was so much harder for her to deal with?

The papers had called it an accident. A horribly mundane accident. A horrible rainstorm, terrible visibility, and a truck driver that had been suffering from sleep deprivation.

So simple. The type of thing that happened to people all the time.

So what was this horrible ache in her chest? What was this horrible feeling that nothing would ever be right again?

She had never known how far in debt the Kanzaki family had been in. Hitomi have never really understood what it had meant when her parents have been forced to refinance their house just so they could get their daughter through college. A college that she had never been able to graduate from.

It made her feel like a failure, worse than a failure. While she had been arranging the funeral and services for her parents and her brother she hadn't really understood how bad things were. Then her parents' estate had been declared insolvent, and the government had claimed what little physical property that she could have inherited until she was left with nothing. She had received none of the proceeds from the sale of the house, and her parents -- she had discovered -- had been victims of a Ponzi scheme.

Simply put, she had nothing left, and she didn't even know what to do.

Hitomi was almost to the beach, a place that was rather dear to her, when the rain started to fall. It wasn't until she sat down on a bench along the boardwalk that she started to cry. Her tears mingled with the rain water and it made her eyes sting. It was hard to tell if her cheeks were wet more from the rain or from her tears. She was only vaguely aware that the horrible wail, the keening sound, was coming from her. She lay her head down on the bench curling up into a ball as best as she could and she gave voice to that horrible aching loss that clawed at her chest.

It wasn't until she felt the warmth of callused fingers touching her cheek that she realized the rain was no longer falling on her. The thrum of the rain as it pounded against the umbrella that was suddenly being held over her had her blinking up at the person they had decided to intrude upon her solitude.

It wasn't the wings, soaked and dripping pitifully, that had her heart thudding in her throat. It wasn't the rose colored pendant settled against tanned skin that made her cry harder. It was those wonderful dark, cinnamon eyes that were narrowed in concern and the utter disarray of his raven locks.

He was even wearing the same, scarlet tunic that he had when they first met.

With a strangled cry she sat up and wrapped her arms around his neck, not caring if this was nothing more than a fevered delusion. All that mattered was that he felt real enough, and he was warm and strong. The umbrella fell to the ground with a soft thud that she was only vaguely aware of. All Hitomi cared about was that he was wrapping his arms tightly around her as she hugged him tighter and his wings arched slightly over her to shield her from the rain as best as he could.

Her face was buried in his chest, his chin resting on the top of her wet hair, and she hardly even noticed when the pillar of light engulfed them both.

XXX

He didn't take her to his bed to find dry clothes like she had expected. When they landed in the Fanelian Palace, an elegant structure that was so different from the one that she remembered, she knew that they were in the place that only a select few were allowed.

It was a hot spring modeled after those at a ryokan. Steam rose from the hot water that was surrounded by carefully placed stones. There was even a rock path leading to the water. It was the cherry tree in one corner, with its delicate pink blossoms that nearly made her tear up.

Van didn't say anything. He just led her to the spring's edge, his wings disappearing into the night air as they went, before helping her strip out of her clothes.

Given how long it had been since they had last had any real contact Hitomi would have expected to feel self-conscious. She didn't stop him as he fumbled with the buttons of her blouse. Her fingers were too cold and stiff anyway. Her cheeks flushed when he removed her bra or when he slid her jeans and panties over her hips. She stepped out of her sensible sandals and let him guide her into the water. It was hot and soothing, and she nearly closed her eyes at this sudden, strange feeling of contentment that filled her as she sank into the water. Then Van cursed and her attention was immediately drawn back to him when he started to remove his own clothes.

She really couldn't say if he had changed much. Maybe she hadn't been quite old enough to appreciate the finer physical qualities of the male form. Maybe that was why she was surprised to find that she liked the slight muscles of his form. She liked how golden his skin was and how his hair seemed to fall almost artlessly over his face. For a moment she was able to forget about the aching loss of her family, but the moment her eyes slid to the water's surface the pain was back, fresh and horrible. Hitomi hardly waited until he had eased into the hot spring himself. She threw her arms around him, kissing him desperately, and hoped that he wouldn't turn shy or push her away.

She nipped at his lip, her hand splaying across the angle of his jaw, when he responded as any male would have. She didn't stop when he pulled her closer, one hand resting on the curve of her hip as he returned her kiss with the same intensity. The one hand that was not wrapped around her waist was busy trailing over her curves and she shuddered when his sword calloused fingers brushed over her breast.

It was probably something like a scene straight from a badly written romance novel, but she didn't care. Somehow, his sudden presence made it so easy to forget. The length that was pressing against her inner thigh told her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Would it really be so wrong to use him as a distraction from her pain? He had always made her feel complete in a way that Allen never could have. She would have wanted this even if things had been different. Hitomi gasped when his mouth left hers and his teeth scraped against her sensitized skin.

"Are you sure?" His breath was hot against her skin and Hitomi was quite sure that she had never heard anything as wonderful as the sound of his voice.

"Please. Van, I need to --"

He cut her off with his thumb pressing against her lip in a way that had her eyes fluttering shut. She let him guide her onto a naturally, weathered stone seat, and if she wasn't so certain that she knew him then she would have sworn that he had planned the entire thing.

Hitomi didn't understand why he seemed to know, why he seemed to know that she needed to lose herself in the sensations that overwhelmed her when one hand suddenly dipped beneath the water and brushed against her core. Was it the combination of hot water and sensations that were so utterly foreign to her? Hitomi wasn't quite sure, and she didn't care. She just gripped his shoulders, her back arching and her breasts pressing against his chest, at the sudden, wonderful contact.

"I've heard this hurts, for a woman." His voice was apologetic. "If it does, I'll make it up to you I swear."

Then he was sliding into her, filling her, and -- by the gods -- it did hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut as she clung to him, crying out and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. He whispered desperate apologies against her skin, and somehow managed to hold himself still even as he rained tender kisses to her bare skin.

It was only when she was breathing easier that he started to move inside her, and by then the pain had dulled into something far more wonderful.

It was there, under the starry, Gaean sky that he claimed her, and the gnawing ache was replaced by feeling of utter joy and contentment.

XXX

It wasn't until much later and that they left the hot spring, dry and clothed. It was more from the force of the emotions then their lovemaking that left her so completely exhausted. She half slumped against him, as he guided her down the hall to his rooms. Hitomi was aware that she was still in the same position she had been on Earth. She still didn't know what was going to happen to her, she realized as they slipped off their robes. Yet, as he guided her into bed, crawling in after her and wrapping his limbs around hers before pulling the soft covers over their naked forms, it really didn't matter. At least while she was here Hitomi knew that she was safe. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she pressed close to his naked skin -- something that was still so foreign to her, and yet it felt right -- and buried her nose into the crook of his back. Her sigh was a contented one as he lifted a hand up to play with the caramel brown strands of her hair. There was something almost curious about that touch which shouldn't have surprised her. After all, her hair had grown quite a bit since he had last seen her.

It was his voice that finally broke the silence.

"Are you still in pain?"

Hitomi knew that he wasn't referring to the dull ache between her legs. It was a question she wasn't ready for yet, because she wasn't quite sure on how to answer it. So instead she pressed a featherlight kiss to his collarbone before murmuring sleepily against him.

"Aishiteru."


End file.
